


Stay

by trashyeggroll



Series: Fictober 2019 [3]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/F, Ficlet, Fictober 2019, Requests, Short Hair Carol Danvers, Tumblr Prompt, danbeau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 10:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21052754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashyeggroll/pseuds/trashyeggroll
Summary: Maria Rambeau reflects on life and trying to love the woman behind the intergalactic superhero.





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Fictober #8: “Can you stay?”
> 
> _So when you say you are homesick for my skin,_  
_my body sends you postcards from all its darkest corners_  
_and prays you can still see the sun climbing my bones like octaves_  
**Andrea Gibson**
> 
> (Warning: this is sad)

When asked about why she signed up for the armed services, Maria Rambeau had a round robin arsenal of well-rehearsed answers: Serve the country. Learn to be a leader. Protect the American Way™, and all that.

These answers could be relied upon to bring a quick end to that subject, and it was really all that civilians ever wanted to hear from vets. They had trouble contending with the harsher underbelly of truth, that many, too many, service members enlisted because they had no other choice to escape their life’s circumstances. Yes, they were _ seeking _ a better life, but the only path they were given to follow was one that could end in death, but more often resulted in lost limbs, traumatic brain injuries, and broken minds.

For eighteen-year-old Maria Rambeau, enlistment had been the alternative to an indefinite number of years hiding under her bed from her father’s drunken rampages. The choice was easy, and she didn’t regret it, despite all the crap she’d put up with over the course of her contract. She was also undeniably happy to get out. After what happened to Carol, they’d rated her at a 10% service connected disability, which was part of how she was able to pay her mortgage on the farmhouse.

Carol had enlisted in the Air Force after getting kicked out of her house by her father for coming out as a lesbian. She of course didn’t share that tidbit with anyone who might whisper it in the right ears and get her discharged—being a woman was offense enough to their so-called brothers in arms—but as time went on, and especially when they started working with Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S., Carol leaned into a particular version of the prime directive, the part where there was a direct relationship between taking action and protecting an innocent person. Half her barfights were in defense of women suffering through grabby-handed advances from men. Being assigned to the joint project was a psychological relief, as they could fly planes all day without worrying about their actions causing collateral damage in pursuit of the mission, as they might if the Air Force would let them fly at all. With Dr. Lawson, they thought were serving the big picture, ensuring kids like Monica would have a safe future to call their own.

And then, the accident happened, and the Carol that came back to the farmhouse was at first a fractured, unfinished thing, no matter how physically strong she felt when Maria finally drew her into her arms for the first time in seven years. But just when the shadow of the woman she knew, the one called Vers, finally gave way for the return of the woman she and her daughter knew and loved, Carol Danvers… she left again. She took off into the sky, and for a second time, Maria was left contending with the fear that she’d never see her again.

The mechanic tried to keep strong for Monica’s sake, at least. That had been an easier task when she was in kindergarten; eleven-year-old Monica could see right through the quiet intensity in her face when Maria zoned out, her mind stuck on imagined scenes of Carol fighting monstrous aliens across the stars. They would’ve been breathtaking in a movie theater, but in Maria’s tired brain, they almost always ended in disaster, and the stress threatened to burn a hole in her stomach.

It was months before Carol did come back, a shooting star that landed in their backyard one night. After an initial tearful reunion, Maria and Carol had had it out over the things left unsaid between them. There was a lot to put on the table, and moments when the discussion so bordered on a fight that she thought the superpowered blonde would hit her limit and just take off into the sky. She didn’t. She stayed, and she found the words to better explain her struggle, and _ yes, _ Carol remembered not just her life now, but _ their _ life, as it had been, together. That was why she came back.

The ensuing make-up sex bent the steel frame of their bed, and for three days, they had floated in domestic bliss as a family of three… until Carol had to leave. This time, she left a communication device behind, one where Maria and Monica could leave messages for her, and when she was able, Carol could contact and leave messages for them, even galaxies away.

That helped for awhile, and eventually, Carol would upgrade it to a video device, but for Maria, nothing could come close to replacing the feeling of waking up next to her partner, blonde hair splayed over her pillow like a halo in the morning sunlight, or being able to just _ know _ that she would be there when Maria came home, stretched out on the couch or helping Monica with homework.

Most of the time, Maria could handle all of it without open complaint. She was inadvertently living the life of a military spouse, with frequent surprise departures and an unclear sense of when she’d see Carol next. The war between the Kree and the Skrulls raged on, and as the years ticked by, more planets and species and misfits needed saving. Carol typically returned home with grand stories to tell, and they always made the sacrifice sound worth it: preventing an extinction, relocating a threatened civilization, destroying a multidimensional serial killer—it went on and on, endlessly.

And some nights, especially after Monica left for college in Chicago, Maria just couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted a life _ with _ Carol Danvers, not just a recurring guest role. She wanted Carol to be there not just for holidays and special milestones, like Monica’s first prom and high school graduation, but also for the gray mornings where the heavens burst, the rain roaring against the roof of the quiet farmhouse. She wanted to be able to snuggle her wife and snooze her alarm, maybe cancel an appointment or two so they could nap on the couch with music playing from the dusty turntable in the living room. Instead, she had to meticulously plan every hour she could spend with Carol Danvers on Earth, and the allotment never, even after decades, felt sufficient.

The worst part was that Maria had no other choice. She loved her heroic, superpowered partner unconditionally, unwaveringly, and there would never be another person who could so much as hold a match to Carol Danvers. The way her nose wrinkled when she laughed, her sense of duty, and loyalty, and right and wrong—and most importantly, the way she loved Maria, just as deeply, no matter how far into the cosmos she strayed. The mechanic would love Carol, and her soul would call for her, whether they were together or not, whether she ever set eyes on Captain Marvel ever again.

So it isn’t often that she acts on her pain, especially when the calamity Carol needs to attend is within their solar system. But the day after the Snap that wiped out half of the population of the planet, after they’d had time to make sure Monica was okay and figure out what happened, Maria had woken to Carol sitting with her legs hanging over the side of the bed. Her shoulders hung heavy, her short blonde hair pushed up on one side from sleep. It would’ve been endearing, if Maria didn’t know what it meant.

She considered pretending to be asleep for awhile longer, knowing Carol wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, but a fiery coal of anger had lit in her stomach. The human world was mourning its most horrific tragedy, and while other families held what was left close and secure… Carol was leaving her, alone. So she sat up before long, draping her arms over her bent knees and keeping her eyes locked on the paisley comforter.

“This is bigger than just Earth,” Carol said, eventually. “This happened on every planet in the universe.”

Maria chose not to respond yet, and the anger in her belly burned hotter. ‘It’ was _ always _ bigger than Earth.

“I have to find out who did this and see if I can fix it, or help fix it.” The blonde slid a hand across the bed, touching Maria’s ankle, trying to catch her eye. The mechanic refused. “Maria… I know this is terrifying. I’m scared, too, but I _ have _ to go, before it gets worse. What if I lose you next time, or we lose Monica?”

She could feel Carol’s anxiety rising at her lack of response, but after nearly three decades of crisis after crisis… Maria was running on fumes. No, she could never stop loving Carol, and she would always welcome her home, but her willingness to celebrate the “superhero” moralism of it all, and the way it forced her family to sacrifice so much of themselves… waning.

“And what if _ we _ lose _ you?” _ asked the mechanic, still not meeting her partner’s gaze. “Whatever did this… whatever had _ the power _ to do this… How could you possibly stop that? People turned to dust, Carol. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” the blonde replied, gently, and in a tone that suggested she knew how futile of a response that was. “But I need to find out.”

Hot tears were welling behind her eyes, and she hated that she couldn’t stop them from rolling down her cheeks, hating even more that she wasn’t mad at Carol for this, not one bit. She just felt selfish, angry with herself, but if there ever were a time for selfishness… This apocalyptic hellscape seemed like the right one.

After a few sniffles and clearing her throat, Maria finally met her partner’s light brown eyes, shining with tears of her own, and asked, “I know. But can you stay? Can you just… stay?”

There was a moment where Maria thought she’d struck the right chord, that the sheer devastation of this latest attack would finally get through to Carol that Maria would happily fall apart and blow away on the wind, so long as her partner and daughter joined her in the eternal world beyond. Perhaps, they could even have some peace, then.

But that was not this reality, this timeline. Carol breathed hard through a shuddering sob, her gaze turning to the ceiling as if seeking guidance in the cracked plaster, but when she looked back at Maria, all she could do was shake her head.

The blonde stood, and then her suit crawled out over her body, encasing her in the otherworldly protective armor save for the helmet. She looked powerful, _ heroic _, and Maria almost made it to the en suite bathroom, intending to hide out for a few hours under a hot shower, but Carol caught her easily, wrapping her arms around her waist and burying her face in the mechanic’s back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into Maria’s sleep shirt. “I’m so sorry I can’t stay.”

_ You won’t stay, _ that selfish part of Maria wanted to snap back, only suppressed by the part of her that understood the conviction of duty, and more importantly, deeply understood Carol Danvers. They couldn’t part like this, though, so Maria relaxed her shoulders, leaning back into the blonde’s solid frame, and they allowed themselves a few minutes of holding each other.

When Carol stepped away, Maria turned to pull her in for a slow kiss, tangling her fingers in sandy blonde hair. She had to keep her eyes closed as Carol murmured a watery _ I love you _ against her lips, and a minute or two later, she heard the unmistakable sound of Captain Marvel taking off again. And the day that Carol came back, if she did ever come back, Maria would be right there, waiting to welcome her home again.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on tumblr [trashyeggroll](https://trashyeggroll.tumblr.com/)


End file.
